


This Year's Love

by slash4femme



Series: Never Gonna to Fall in Love Again [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sex, non-explicit reference to violence and death, reference to trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:30:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slash4femme/pseuds/slash4femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock and McCoy hit a crossroads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Year's Love

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in October 2009
> 
> This is the last part of a three part arc starting with[Never Gonna Fall In Love Again.](http://slash4femme.livejournal.com/49017.html) , and [You Will Be Waiting ](http://slash4femme.livejournal.com/49637.html)beta read by [](http://cardiac-logic.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://cardiac-logic.livejournal.com/) **cardiac_logic**  who is wonderful.  

I.

There are times when McCoy thinks it is all too complicated. In comparison, McCoy’s relationship with Kirk seems easy. He loves him like a younger brother, like the man who’s been his best friend for years. He takes care of Kirk, kicks him in the ass when he needs it, saves his life, watches his back, and lets Kirk cry on his shoulder from time to time.

His relationship with Spock, though, is something else altogether.The fact that there are two of them is only part of what makes this hard. McCoy has no doubt at this point that he loves Ambassador Spock, that he adores the tall, older Vulcan. He can’t imagine living without him, can’t imagine wanting to spend the rest of his life with anyone else. The older Spock completes him; it’s just that simple.

The younger Spock had totally freaked out when McCoy had finally come clean about his relationship with the Ambassador. So had Kirk actually, but McCoy would not be moved; he was in love, and that was the end of it. Eventually they both just got used to the idea. All three relied on each other too much not to just roll with the punches.

McCoy tolerates the younger man’s disapproval much more than he would with anyone else, because he knows that he couldn’t live without Commander Spock either. The younger man is an intense, brilliant, fragile being; McCoy is drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He would die for this man, he knows that; he wants to help Spock, stand by him, heal him, try and make him whole again. He loves Commander Spock, maybe as much as he loves the Ambassador, but he only desires one of them as his lover. He needs both of them, though.

 

II.

“Doctor.” There is a lot of blood and he wonders if Spock is all right. He should get up and see if Spock is all right, but no, the blood is the wrong color for it to be Spock’s. “Doctor McCoy.”The voice is urgent; Spock is angry, furious even. “Doctor, you cannot lose consciousness, do you hear me? You cannot.” A hand slaps him across the face hard, but he feels numb and so tired he can’t remember what happened; he can’t think at all. He closes his eyes, tries to speak but can’t. He can taste blood in his mouth. “Doctor, you cannot die.”Spock is almost yelling, angrier than McCoy has ever heard him. “Listen to me, Doctor, I will not allow you to die.”

They are very bossy creatures, these Spocks, McCoy thinks drowsily. He has the irrational urge to tell the other man that everything will be all right, but he doesn’t remain conscious long enough.

 

III.

When he regains consciousness in the Enterprise’s sickbay, the first thing he sees is Commander Spock looking just as pissed off as he had sounded.

“See, I didn’t die,” McCoy manages to croak before passing out again.

The next time he wakes up Spock is still there, sipping tea, watching him intently, although McCoy is pretty sure he’s not doing anything particularly interesting. He gathers enough strength to smile at the other man. “You saved my life, Commander.”

Spock opens his mouth, but whatever he had intended to say is lost when Chapel bustles over.

McCoy listens to Chapel tell him about his condition, learns he has been in artificial coma for the last few days. Kirk comes by, squeezes his hand tightly and tells him never to do that again. McCoy assures him he’s not planning on it. After that he drifts in and out of consciousness. If Spock leaves at any point during the whole thing McCoy isn’t aware of it.

The next time he wakes up, he puts his foot down, so to speak. “Go get some sleep, Spock.” The other man looks up at him surprised, and McCoy frowns at him, “Seriously, I have Chris to mother me and you need to sleep in a real bed. So go back to your quarters, sleep for eight hours, eat something, and take a shower or I’ll relieve you of duty until you do.”

Spock clasps his hands behind his back. “You cannot relieve me of duty, Doctor, as you yourself are not on duty.”

McCoy glares at him, “Do not argue with me, Spock, and don’t make me call Jim down here to settle this.”

Spock opens his mouth like he’s going to protest but instead closes it and then nods very slightly and turns on his heel and leaves. McCoy watches him go and then collapses back on his own bed again and sleeps.

 

IV.

Chapel has released him to finish recovering in his own quarters when the visit comes. McCoy answers the buzzer thinking it’s going to be Spock or Kirk, and blinks when he sees who it is. In some ways, he thinks, he was right; it is technically Spock.The Ambassador stands in the doorway, dressed in an Earth style suit. He looks incredibly concerned, for him, at least. McCoy stands back, silently allowing the older man into his quarters. The minute he keys the door shut Spock’s hands are on his shoulders turning him, and Spock pulls him into a fierce embrace. Still, McCoy can feel the other man holding back, being mindful of his injuries.

“Who told you?” McCoy asks when they draw apart.

“When I did not receive any word from you for several days I contacted Jim,” Spock tells him, stroking one hand across McCoy’s face. “He told me of your injuries and at that time your extremely unstable condition. I then made arrangements to meet the Enterprise at the next convenient point.” Spock hesitates for a moment, “However, Commander Spock also contacted me shortly after I spoke to the Captain. He assured me you would live, but he seemed . . . concerned.”

They stare at each other and McCoy pulls his fingers through his hair in a distracted gesture. “Well I’m alive, although I got beat up pretty badly, according to the Commander. A lot of internal bleeding, a lot of external bleeding.”

Spock’s long fingers close around his chin, turn his face up and Spock kisses him deeply.

“Hush, darlin’.” McCoy touches Spock’s face, strokes along the lines of it, traces down his throat. “I’m still here.” Spock’s arms wind loosely around his waist and McCoy strokes across the older man’s cheeks, touches his ears, slides his fingers into his grey hair. He pushes one of the buttons on Spock’s heavy, dark colored shirt open, then another, revealing part of Spock’s chest, and McCoy leans forward and kisses him there. “Come to bed,” he says softly against Spock’s skin, “there are things we can do that won’t hurt me, and I need you tonight.”

Spock’s hands rise, stroke through the other man’s dark hair, push him away a little bit to see McCoy’s eyes, almost gold, in the shadows cast by the low lighting. Very carefully he traces the dark circles underneath McCoy’s eyes, then traces one finger across McCoy’s bottom lip.

“To lose you . . .” Spock’s voice falters as he searches for a way to express the emotions that even now he is so ill at ease with. McCoy’s fingers wrap around his, squeezing his hand firmly.

“You didn’t,” McCoy’s voice is low and urgent. “We cannot change the past Spock.”

Spock looks at him for a long moment but does not object when McCoy pulls him towards his bedroom.

“I adore you,” McCoy says against his skin many hours later. “I don’t know how I would live without you.”

Spock holds the other man as close to him as he dares, and kisses his hair. He thinks about how strange it feels to be on an Enterprise so different and yet so very much the same as his own. How much stranger it is to be sleeping aboard the Enterprise with Doctor McCoy in his arms, and for a moment his heart aches for something he never had and he pushes it away. This is not the time or the place; he pulls the younger man closer to him and kisses his forehead.

“Stop thinking and go to sleep, Spock,” McCoy mutters into his shoulder, and Spock closes his eyes and does.

 

V.

Spock stays with McCoy until the Doctor is reinstated to active duty, then he returns to New Vulcan. The episode disquiets him though. He cannot shake memories of the past, no matter how often he meditates upon them. Again and again he is drawn back to memories of the other, the McCoy he knew in his own timeline, and this unsettles him, for they should remain memories, loved and cherished but in the past.

_“Don’t die on me again, Spock,”_ McCoy tells him. He is bent with age, white haired and sick; they both know it won’t be long now and Spock refuses to leave his side, nursing him through the worst of it even when McCoy swears at him and tells him not to. _“I don’t think I could bear it happening a second time; I barely made it through the first.”_

It is the closest they ever came to saying it out loud, acknowledging what they both had felt for decades. This knowledge is only made more painful for Spock by the fact that he knows much of the hesitation was his own. When he was very much younger he had seen love as a weakness and by the time he had come to know better their chance had gone. To this day he still does not know what the Doctor’s reasons were for not acting.

His mind flashes on McCoy, slim and young, although still older than the man who shares Spock’s bed. He’s leaning against the Captain’s chair on the bridge talking to Kirk, one hip cocked in a way that would have been provocative if it hadn’t been completely unconscious. He remembers himself, tentative and awkward, trying to reach out to the Doctor, trying to soothe away some of the pain left by the alternate version of himself’s violation, and meeting only resistance and rejection. He sees McCoy trying to reach out to him after his run in with the Romulan Commander, and remembers turning away unable to accept such comfort. He remembers the Doctor arguing with him about Gol. _“You’ll break Jim’s heart,”_ he’d told Spock, but his eyes had said that Spock would be breaking his too. 

He can remember McCoy shaking him hard by the shoulder as if this would physically force him to see sense, force him to truly understand how frightened McCoy is for him. The Doctor, older still, watching him from across a courtyard on Vulcan, a sad little smile on his face because Spock is alive but no longer remembers him in anything but an abstract sense. He remembers McCoy pressing against Spock’s side in the circle of his arms, weeping unashamedly because Jim is gone. Finally, McCoy dying in a hospital within commuting distance of the Academy, Spock stubbornly refusing to leave him.

He can recall Nyota’s arms around him, hugging him tight at McCoy’s funeral. _“I know what he meant to you,”_ she had told him, and at the time he had refused to believe she did. Looking back on it, Spock acknowledges he was probably wrong. It seems everyone had been willing to give a name to it, except for them. 

It should not hurt so much. It has been a long time now; Spock is living a life that pleases him greatly, with a man he loves more than he thought possible, but that in itself is a problem. Because the more that he realizes he still yearns for the McCoy he never had, the more doubt begins to creep into his mind regarding his feelings for the one who now shares his life. Spock will not allow himself to use McCoy. He loves the man too much, and he will not allow McCoy to be a replacement for something he should have had the strength to move beyond.

He gets up and allows himself to pace. There is another issue, too - the Commander. When McCoy and he had begun their relationship his counterpart had been involved in a relationship with Uhura. Since then, that relationship had failed to stand the test of time. Spock had not failed to notice the devotion with which Commander Spock had stayed by the Doctor through his recovery after this most recent incident. He does not precisely know the nature of the younger man’s feelings for McCoy; he doubts Spock himself knows, but he also has no doubt that Spock does indeed have feelings for the Doctor, and quite strong ones at that. He knows that McCoy has exceptionally strong feelings for Commander Spock, if conflicted ones. Spock sighs and sits once more, this time at his desk, not his meditation mat. He will not stand in the way of his younger-self giving the Doctor the open, honest relationship the man deserves. He can no longer trust his own feelings for the Doctor, but while he remains with McCoy he keeps the Commander from doing what he obviously cannot. There is therefore only one logical course of action left for him to take. Spock sighs again and feels, for the first time in a long time, very old.

 

VI.

Spock does it simply; he waits until the Enterprise is next at New Vulcan, signaling the end of the five-year mission.

“I cannot do this.” It is simple enough; he’s very good at denying himself and McCoy, after all. He holds himself stiffly away from the other man. He does not touch him, does not think of how it feels to hold him, or what his hair smells like, or what it feels like to wake up with this man in his arms.

“Spock,” McCoy’s voice is tight, “we need to talk about this.”

“On the contrary, Doctor, we have nothing to talk about; the decision is mine, is it not?”

“Spock . . .”

Spock holds up his hand, middle fingers parted in the old gesture of both greeting and departing. “Be well, Doctor,” he tells him softly, and then turns and walks away without looking back.

He is not at all surprised to find once he is back at his house that McCoy has left him several messages. He deletes them all without listening to them and meditates for days, only pausing when his body demands it. When he finally feels that his control is sufficient he returns to his normal routine. He systematically deletes all the messages McCoy sends him; then he throws himself into his work. He tells himself he did the right thing for both of them, that the other man will heal, that he will learn to love his younger self just as deeply as he had loved Spock, if not more.

 

VII.

To say McCoy is mad is putting it mildly. He keeps himself from marching over to Spock’s house and physically breaking down the door, but only just. He sends Spock almost a constant stream of messages, everything from berating him for being a stubborn, illogical _idiot_ , to pleading with him to just answer at least one message. Kirk finally tells him they have to leave and head back to Earth, and McCoy agrees. He keeps on sending messages though, and checking up with some people he knows on New Vulcan just to make sure Spock’s still alive and breathing. 

He only stops when the away team gets sucked into the alternate reality from hell. Afterwards he guesses he shouldn’t be that surprised; he seems doomed to be plagued by multiple version of the same man. Although nothing prepares him for the bearded Spock or the way he forces his way into McCoy’s mind, strips him bare and leaves him nothing left. He can’t bring himself to message Spock again for weeks afterward, although it feels like he’s being such a coward.

It is Commander Spock who finally corners him, “Doctor, we need to talk.”

McCoy scowls at him from across his desk, “I’m busy.”

Instead of going away Spock sits down across the desk from McCoy, “We need to speak of what my counterpart did in the alternate reality.” Spock clasps his hands in his lap.

“It was nothing.”

“Doctor, we both know that is a lie.”

“We’ll be on Earth in a couple days; I’ll be fine,” McCoy tries again, and Spock merely sits there and stares at him.

“Doctor.” Spock’s voice has become soft, and McCoy looks up at him again, “I can help you if you would allow me.”

McCoy clenches his fists to keep himself from physically backing away, “No.”

Spock watches him carefully, “I assure you, Doctor, that I would not attempt a mind meld.”

McCoy can’t help but relax very slightly, “Then what are you going to do?”

Spock holds out one hand, laying it palm up on the table. After a minute of staring at it, McCoy reaches forward and takes Spock’s hand in his. Spock takes a long careful breath, and McCoy feels some of the pain and fear slip away from him. It isn’t much but it is something, and he sighs ever so slightly. When he looks up Spock is watching him, “Thank you.”

Spock inclines his head very slightly. “For a long time I have wondered about your relationship with the Ambassador,” Spock moves his hand of the deck to fold both of them in his lap. “Although I know better than to think humans and Vulcans are incompatible, I had always assumed humans who chose Vulcans as mates would have a certain . . . disposition, such as my mother, or Lieutenant Uhura.”

Spock pauses and McCoy sits back in his chair, “And I’m not like that.”

“No,” Spock straightens a paperweight on McCoy’s desk minutely. “However, you are strong willed, sure of yourself and unafraid of who you are, and perhaps that is better.”

McCoy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Not that it matters now.” He lets the bitterness creep into his voice.

“Send him a message.” Spock tells him softly, “Tell him about this.”

He stands and walks to the door, and McCoy voice stops him, “Why?”

Spock turns back toward the doctor, “Because if you were my mate I would wish to know; also because the Doctor McCoy that I have spent the last five years serving with does not give up so easily.”

Something touches the corners of his eyes, something McCoy has never seen on this version of Spock before, the Vulcan equivalent of a smile, “Unfortunately.”

Then he is gone.

VIII.

“So it’s been months. Vulcans work differently than humans, Bones, he might just need a little more time.”

McCoy sighs, leaning against the railing of a small decorative bridge that spans a small decorative stream. They are all back on Earth and Spock is back to teaching at the Academy while Kirk harbors the delusion that if he just avoids all Starfleet personnel long enough they won’t actually promote him.

“Maybe.” McCoy rubs his hands over his face and looks at the water; he had started sending messages again after his talk with Spock, but there had still been no answer from New Vulcan. McCoy debates everyday just hopping on a transporter shuttle and going there, but if Spock really doesn’t want to see him McCoy knew he was already pushing his luck with the messages.

“Or you know you could start trying to find somebody else.” Kirk leans against the railing to next to him, “If you’re really into Spocks, there are two.” McCoy makes a face at him, reminded just how young Kirk really is. “So are you coming to dinner tonight?” Kirk asks, wisely changing the subject.

“And watch you and Captain Spock fight? Why would I miss that?” McCoy turns to face his Captain and Kirk grins at him.

Dinner is exactly what McCoy is expecting. The food is fairly good because Kirk ordered out and they all talk a little about Starfleet politics, Kirk’s impending promotion, Spock’s promotion, McCoy’s promotion and Spock’s classes. That’s the friendly calm part of the evening before Kirk has just a little too much wine and starts pushing Spock’s buttons. McCoy watches Kirk lean forward almost imperceptibly. He watches Spock sit straighter in his chair, his lips pressed together, as he gives as good as he gets. They are seconds away from throwing insults, McCoy knows. Kirk loves riling Spock up, trying to push Spock just a little too far, although Spock has never lost it completely since the time he tried to strangle the living daylights out of Kirk on the bridge. McCoy thinks Kirk should have learned his lesson then, but evidently the adrenaline junky in Kirk can’t resist seeing how close to the edge he can get. Fire flares and snaps between them, Kirk’s eyes are alight, and Spock is leaning a little closer than Vulcan etiquette really allows. McCoy sips his wine, lets them go at it, and wonders what the other Spock is doing right now. Kirk catches his eye, grins, and McCoy smiles back, raising his glass in a silent salute. He knows then that he’s leaving Starfleet; there’s really no other decision for him to make.

 

IX.

Of all the places in the galaxy he could have ended up, McCoy’s still not sure why he ended up in Upstate New York, not that it isn’t beautiful there, because it is. He buys a house just far enough out in the country for it to feel a little wild. It’s an old farmhouse and he fixes it up himself. Cornell University’s genetic mutational disease clinic is exactly where he needs to be. It’s the best in the galaxy, doing all the cutting edge research into human genetic mutation, and the research never stops being fascinating for him. Joanna likes it there too; she likes the house and her new school.

“Just wait until it’s winter,” he tells her, “you’ll wish you were back with your grandma in Georgia then.”

They get their first snow in October. It’s coming down light and wet when he leaves for work and he figures it’ll change to rain later in the day; it doesn’t though, it just keeps getting thicker. By the time he gets home the snow is actually beginning to stick to the ground. He showers, changes and starts to make dinner. Joanna’s at her weekly sleepover with her best friend Rebecca, so he doesn’t bother with anything fancy. By then the snow’s coming down hard, and he figures they might actually have some accumulation on the ground by the next morning. He’s slightly startled when the door buzzes because he knows he wouldn’t want to be driving around out there.

He keys open the door and then leans against it when he sees who it is, “So you’ve really decided hypothermia’s what’s going to kill you.”

“Please, Leonard,” Ambassador Spock says softly, “It is very cold out here.”

McCoy steps back, letting Spock in, and then heads for the kitchen. “I’m assuming you got my messages?”

“Yes,” Spock strips off his heavy coat and gloves as he walks, “I have read all the messages you have sent me since you departed New Vulcan.”

McCoy turns to face him.

“I am sorry,” Spock says very softly, sinking down into one of McCoy’s kitchen chairs, “that I was not there for you after your unfortunate encounter of my other alternate self.” McCoy turns away from him and puts on the kettle for tea. “I thought the danger of that happening at all had passed,” Spock finishes softly.

“Yeah, well in case you missed it, there was this trouble a while back with Romulans and black holes and Vulcan imploding. It kind of screwed everything up in this reality.”McCoy crosses his arms over his chest and comes to stand next to the kitchen table where Spock is sitting. He sighs. “It was tough,” he admits finally, “but Spock, the younger one, was there, and that helped, although don’t tell him I said so.”

“Ah,” Spock’s voice is tentative and he glances away from McCoy, “then you and he . . .?”

McCoy snorts in frustration, “God damn it, Spock, get your head out of your whole obsessive destiny thing and think for just one minute. Would I still be trying to contact you if we were together?”

McCoy closes the small space left between them, standing very close to Spock so that their knees almost touch. He looks down at the seated figure. “I care a lot for Captain Spock,” he says softly, “I can’t imagine not having him in my life, I love him even. But I don’t want him. I love him the way I love Jim.” He runs his fingers through is own hair, “We’re friends, Spock, that’s all.” He reaches out his fingers, sliding them into Spock’s grey hair. “I want you,” he says softly, so close that their lips are almost touching, “only you.”

McCoy finally closes the distance and kisses him hard, and Spock finally moves, arms coming up to wind around McCoy’s shoulders, one hand pressing against the back of McCoy’s neck.

“You are a very stubborn man, Doctor Leonard McCoy,” Spock informs him when they break for air.

“And you irritate the hell out of me sometimes.” McCoy uses the hand he still has tangled in Spock’s hair to tip the other man’s face further back. “That doesn’t change the fact that I still love you.”

The stare at each other again and Spock sighs finally, “This relationship between us should not have happened.” He says softly, “When it did happen it should not have continued. When I attempted to end it on New Vulcan I believed I was doing what was best for both of us; however,” he closes his eyes for a moment, “I have found it increasingly difficult to continue my life without you, Doctor.”

“Ok,” McCoy’s voice is very soft and gentle, the way he talks to patients when he’s afraid they might panic, “this is what we’re going to do. No,” he holds up his free hand to stop Spock from speaking, “listen to me. I am going to finish making dinner. Then I am going to take you to bed, then tomorrow I’m going to pick up Joanna and introduce you to my little girl, and then we’re all coming back here and you are not going to leave me again, not now, not ever.”

There is silence for a long moment, then Spock loops one arm around McCoy’s waist and draws the other man close. “This plan sounds as if it would be agreeable to all,” Spock says softly, and McCoy’s face breaks into a wide grin. “However,” Spock stands then, and easily pulls McCoy close to him so their bodies are flush against each other, “I suggest that we go to bed first, and then eat.” He presses one hand to the back of McCoy’s neck and kisses him deeply with fierce passion, and McCoy’s fists ball into Spock’s shirt as the younger man clings to him.

“Now who only wants me for my body?” McCoy murmurs when they part, lips red and slightly bruised, turning up into a smile.

“I love all of you,” Spock says softly, so softly that if they hadn’t been sharing the same breath McCoy probably would have missed it. Then Spock kisses him again.

 

 


End file.
